I remember that day quite well. The dark, oakwood door in front of me helps aid those memories, clearing them up even more. My eyes move up and down the door, landing on the doorknob. I haven't been here since the incident, two weeks ago.....
October 7. It started out as a pretty normal day. Both Michael and I had gone to work in the morning. It was a Friday, so our weekly Minecraft Let's Play had been recorded and uploaded. That week, we had done the third installment of the Fishing Rodeo & Jamboree. Michael spent most of the video quiet, which was quite odd. When we questioned him about it just after Ryan had repeatedly hit Jack with the fishing rod about 20 times, he just said he was trying to enjoy the Minecraft nature. In the end, I ended up winning the tower, with Michael trailing by only 2 points. After the video of me getting my tower ended, Michael had immediately tackled me to the ground and started tickling me. I remember I was rolling around, squealing and begging him to stop. He didn't for another 2 minutes or so. After he finally did, he pulled me up and kissed me. That's right, Michael and I had been dating. For 9 months that day. I'd asked him out first. At first, he didn't know what to think. But, after giving him a day to think about it, he said yes. We'd been in love since then.
After Michael finished kissing me, he helped me up and we continued on with the day. We'd gotten home that night around 8. I went to our shared room while Michael headed to the bathroom to take a quick shower. I remember the house seeming oddly quiet. The water in the shower was running but it sounded the same. There was no change in water flow, which there should be if someone is standing under the stream. I remember standing up and going to knock on the door. He didn't answer, so I had called out his name.
"Micool?" He still hadn't responded. I opened the door and immediately dropped to my knees, sobs racking my body within my first 10 seconds of seeing him. I vaguely remember calling 911. I don't remember anything after that until the doctor came to me in the waiting room, telling me he was gone. Since then, all I've done is sit at home. I haven't slept in our room, or even gone in it, since that day. I also haven't used that bathroom, so I've had to use our other, smaller bathroom. I've slept on the couch and barely eaten.
But today is the day I brave the memories. The memories behind the door.
I push open the door and step in. Everything looks normal. The bed isn't made, my closet is still wide open, and the light on his bedside table is still glowing dimly. I feel my heart seem to deflate a little at the sight, knowing nothing is normal at all. I brace myself and slowly make my way over to Michael's closet. When I open it, my breath catches in my throat. All his clothes are there except his 20% Cooler shirt and baggy jeans, which he was wearing when he died. I carefully take out his Rage Quit shirt, pressing my nose against the shirt lightly. It smells exactly like him. Just as I remember. I take it over to the bed and hold it close to me, imagining him wearing it. Imagine him kissing my nose, telling me I'm an idiot. Tears begin to rush down my face as the memories flood in, one by one. I miss him so much. I just want my little Michael back....
I get up maybe an hour later, deciding I can't handle much more. I put the shirt back and, just as I'm about to close the door, I notice something at the bottom of the closet, under the piles of clothes there. I move the clothes and pick It up. It's a book. It's about medium-sized, bounded in leather. I read the familiar handwriting scribbled across the front.
"Property of Michael Jones. Read once I'm Dead."
I open to the first page and begin to read.
Before you start to think this, no, this is not a diary. This is a journal for people to read after I die. But not just any person can read this. The only person who I'm going to let read this is Gavin Free. If you aren't Gavin, fuck off. If you are Gavin, I'm sorry you're reading this, because it means I died. All the things written here are things I only want you to read and only want you to know. So Gavin, this little rant from me is finished. You can continue reading my journal and hearing what I really had to say, but never said.
I flip quickly through the book. Each entry is only a page or less. I decide I should read one entry per day, to maybe make it feel like he's here with me. I flip to the first page and begin to read the first entry.
